That had been her impression too. “At least we have something to dig for.”
“The bigger question is whether Judy talked to the fiancé. If she did, either this woman or someone in her family might be implicated in Judy’s death.”
“Or my dad,” Harper said. It always circled back to her father.
* * *
Annabelle’s boys had run to the grocery store together to get food for the rest of the week before the sun was up. Mark planned to make her his vegetable soup for when the nausea hit, and Scott thought they needed to stock up on things like ginger ale and smoothie ingredients. She couldn’t imagine having a green smoothie when the sickness hit, but she’d shooed them out to give her a little peace before the ordeal began.
Her dear boys. She couldn’t leave them—she had to fight this with every ounce of her being. Her boys would have children someday, and she intended to be the best grandmother on the face of the earth. Tears filled her eyes, and she brushed them away. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself. She would do her best and leave the results in God’s hands.
While she didn’t fear the chemo, she knew she needed to gird herself for the battle with some praise music and her favorite Bible promises. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Her calm expression concealed the way her pulse skittered.
She’d forgotten her supplements this morning so she went to the bathroom counter to grab them. As she exited her bathroom into the dim bedroom, she felt rather than heard a movement to her right. She glimpsed a figure in a ski mask before a suffocating cloth covered her head. Not again!
She fought the dark with the sickeningly sweet odor, but her strength was no match for the drug, and the edges of consciousness slipped away.
* * *
This time when she came to, she was in a small room with a bit of light slicing through the slats of the blinds. She blinked and sat up. Her head throbbed and nausea roiled. Panic hovered at the edges of her mind, but she fought it back. If she had any hope of escaping, she had to keep a clear head. She didn’t understand why anyone would want her. This was far beyond a normal sort of attack. Whoever had taken her last time hadn’t harmed her.
She forced herself to detail her surroundings to calm herself. She grabbed a fistful of white bedding, which felt like something from a luxurious hotel. High-quality carpet covered the floor, and Annabelle knew carpet and furnishings well. Even the plantation shutters were expensive.
Her head still spun when she slid her bare feet onto the thick carpet and padded to an open door. It was an attached bathroom with lavish fixtures. She retraced her steps and went to the closed door, but it refused to open. She eyed the windows, then opened one of the blinds and looked down into a yard fringed with forest. She couldn’t see any other houses.
The window was plate glass without a sash to raise. She could break the glass, but she was on the second floor, and there was only a steep drop to the ground below. No escape that way. Unless she could tie the sheets together so she could manage to get within a few feet of the ground.
Her stomach rebelled, and she ran for the bathroom where she threw up in the toilet. It knocked the pain of her headache back some, and she rinsed out her mouth, then went back to the bedroom. Once she got the drug out of her system, she’d feel better.
She looked around for something to throw through the window. There didn’t seem to be a single loose item in the room though—no lamp, no dresser drawer, no soap dispenser, nothing. She swallowed her panic, then sat on the bed to consider her options. Maybe she could wrap her hand in some of the bedding and use her fist to punch through the glass. It was worth a try.
The sound of metal scraped in the lock, and she stood to face the door. A man entered the room. This guy wasn’t hiding his face with a ski mask, and a cold shaft of fear scraped down her spine.
Maybe he didn’t need to hide his identity since she wouldn’t live to tell anyone.
Her breath quickening, she backed away until she reached the wall with the windows. “What do you want with me?” Her thin, reedy voice sounded odd.
He was in his late twenties with a shaved head and a scar on his left cheek that he fingered silently as he stood watching her. About six-one, he had a rugged face with a crooked nose that appeared as if it had been broken at least once. He wore pressed khaki slacks and a striped shirt with a red tie. His dark-brown eyes raked over her without expression.
“What do you want with me?” she asked again in a stronger voice.
His lips twisted into a terrifying smile. “You look frightened.”
“Wouldn’t you be scared? You drug me and take me from my home. I wake up here with no idea what you want from me or why I’m here. I want to go home. I want my boys.” Her voice dropped on the last part as her panic increased, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
She didn’t believe him, not for a moment. If only she could figure out what was going on. It made no sense.
Without another word he exited the room.
She ran to the door in time to hear the lock snick into place. She sank to her knees and let the tears flow.
26
Harper stood at the counter of Kookie Krums, her favorite bakery in Dunedin. The mouthwatering aromas of red velvet cupcakes, peanut butter cookies, and chocolate chip cookies mingled with the smells of coffee drinks being prepared. Though she wasn’t sure what kind of cookies Ridge liked best, she picked out peanut butter and chocolate chip. He had to like one of them. She ordered four cupcakes and two coffees as well.
He was meeting her here, and they were going to see Annabelle. Since the clippings were stolen, Harper was even more eager to read them. Someone had wanted them kept secret, and hadn’t Annabelle said she’d locked them up because she felt uneasy? What was that all about?
Harper emerged into the bright sunshine and saw Ridge exiting his truck. The lights flashed as he punched the lock button on his key fob.
He didn’t look like he’d gotten any more sleep last night than she did. He looked pale and drawn, though he lifted a smile her way and took the coffee she offered. “Just what I need. And cookies?”
“Cupcakes too.” She indicated a cafe table under the awning. “We can eat here before we head to Orlando.”
Tires squealed on the road as a blue sedan threw on its brakes and swerved into a parking space. Scott Rice, his blond hair askew, leaped from the car. Mark jumped out on the passenger side.
Scott reached her first. “I was on my way to see you and saw you sitting here.”
Harper rose. “What’s happened? Is it your mom?”
He nodded. “She’s missing. Mark and I went to the store, and when we got back, she was nowhere to be found. I smelled ether in her bedroom, too, and she’d lost one of her slippers.”
“How long ago was this?” Ridge asked.
Mark looked subdued. “About six this morning. We left at five. She was supposed to start chemo this morning at seven. I know she didn’t go by herself, because her car is still in the garage. The back door was unlocked too. I’ve got a BOLO out for her, but no one has reported seeing her.”
“What can I do?” Harper asked.
“I thought maybe we could go over everything that’s happened since you met her. The chain of events are just weird, but they have to connect somehow.”
“Something else has happened I’m sure you haven’t heard,” Ridge said. “My father was murdered yesterday.”
Scott’s gaze sharpened. “How do you know it was murder?”
“The cleaner at the hospital found a vial of potassium chloride under his bed.” Ridge told him everything including the visit from the police.
“I have the physical evidence from my grandmother’s murder in the car,” Scott said. “None of this happened until you showed up, Harper.” His tone sliced with the dagger of accusation.
Ridge frowned. “This has nothing to do with Harper.”
&nbs
p; “Maybe not, but you have to admit it’s strange. The first attack on Harper occurred before she came to see Mom, so it’s like she brought the danger to our doorstep.”
Harper clasped her hands together. “I didn’t think about that—you’re right. But I don’t see how any attack on me is related to your mother. She and I are virtual strangers still.” She rubbed her head. “I’m beginning to think these have to be individual incidents with no ties.”
“I don’t believe that,” Scott said flatly. “The connection is there—we just have to find it. Let’s go over this again, step by step, as events unfolded.” He looked at Harper. “When did you discover the genetic link to Mom?”
“A week ago Saturday. On the following Monday I went to see your mother for the first time.”
“You didn’t waste any time, did you?”
Ridge leaned forward in his chair. “And I don’t like your tone. Quit accusing Harper with that sneering expression.”
Scott clenched his fists. “Look, my mother is missing. I’m a homicide detective. This is the only interrogation manner I possess. I don’t mean to appear accusatory, but the first twenty-four hours are critical.”
Harper reached over and put her hand on Ridge’s arm. “It’s okay. I want to do whatever I can to find Annabelle.”
He fixed Scott with a stern glare. “Fine. Just remember we’re on the same team here.”
Scott nodded. “So the two of you spent hours together and really hit it off. She told you about her mother’s murder, and you told her about your mom’s death in an accident. She was taken the next night but managed to escape.”
“So that was Tuesday night. Later that same night someone put ether over my face and tried to take me from my boat. Ridge happened to come by in time to save me.”
“You were both attacked the same night,” Scott muttered. He paced the sidewalk for a few moments, then came back to stand by their table.
Harper looked up at Scott. “There’s something I forgot though, and I don’t know when it happened. Your mother gave me copies of the newspaper clippings from her mom’s murder. I hadn’t had a chance to really go over them, but last night we opened the box and everything inside was missing. Someone had broken into my boat and taken everything from the box.”
Scott glanced at his brother who had been standing quietly listening to the rundown of events. “That does seem to indicate this is tied to my grandmother’s murder. I put Mom off a dozen times about looking into the evidence. I should have listened. I have that fiber evidence I told you about. That’s why I came instead of calling. Time is running out.”
“We’ll take it to the lab right now and test it,” Ridge said.
* * *
Harper wished her first visit to the new lab Oliver had put together were under better circumstances. If only she’d been able to come here with him and hear all of his plans.
The sharp sting of alcohol or some other kind of antiseptic assailed her as she stood beside Ridge at the microscope. She took stock of the room as he focused his lens on the bit of fiber found in Judy’s wound. Various types of equipment filled the lab. There was a full wall of metal cabinets containing drawers filled with mollusks, snails, and other invertebrates.
He was in his element here surrounded by the sea life he studied. “How soon before you’re ready for experiments?”
He looked up briefly. “I still need to hire a few people, but the lab equipment is all in place.”
“And what about your new job at the museum?”
“I’m going to turn it down. Dad’s gone, and I’ll have to focus on figuring out what to do with this lab and his pharmaceutical business long-term. It’s Dad’s legacy. I can’t just walk away and ignore it.”
“You could sell it. Oliver wouldn’t expect you to give up your dream for his.”
“He knew me better than I know myself. The minute he mentioned this lab, I was hooked.”
She wished she had the words to comfort him. She settled for squeezing his arm. “I’m praying for you, Ridge. I’m not really sure what the right answer is either. You’ll take over as head of Jackson Pharmaceuticals?”
“And all the other businesses. That was always Dad’s wish. I would be happier staying here in the lab and puttering around with new directions to explore. But if I just hired a CEO for the company, it would slowly fail. No one cares about a business as much as the owner.”
He was right, but she couldn’t see him behind Oliver’s big desk dealing with a mountain of paperwork.
His arm brushed hers as he fiddled with the microscope, and she caught the scent of his shampoo, something clean and enticing. She should step away, but she stayed where she was and inhaled. Ridge would be mortified if he knew how attractive she found him.
“Ah, I’ve got it. It’s definitely byssus. It has that characteristic egg shape. It’s possible the murder weapon was a bivalve shell. When the killer removed the shell, it could have left a strand of byssus behind.” He straightened and removed the strand from the microscope.
He turned and picked up a pen shell and held it with the point toward her. “If the killer hit her in the temple or the eye with just the right angle, it would penetrate and kill her instantly. Or he could have hit her with something else that had been contaminated with some byssus strands.”
“This was someone who was harvesting sea silk maybe?”
“Maybe not. We know Judy was a sea silk artisan. She likely would have had her work conveniently sitting around that the killer used.”
“I’ve never seen anything like the work she did.” Harper leaned against the counter. “Have you heard from your mom or sister?”
“They’ve left several messages, but I haven’t listened to them yet. I can’t stand to hear their only interest in Dad was his money.” He swept his hand around the lab. “All this was bought with his hard work. His pharmaceutical company will thrive because of his knowledge and dedication. They don’t see any of that. All they see is what he left.”
Ridge put his hand over hers. “You’ve been so great, Harper. When Dad died, all I could think about was getting to you—you were the only one I knew who loved him. I needed to grieve with someone who understood. It’s sad it couldn’t be with my own family.”
His words initially warmed her, then sent her elation spiraling to the ground. Was that connection she felt because he thought of her more like a sister? If so, she needed to guard her heart. She was feeling so much more than sisterly affection. Her thoughts turned to him way more frequently than she wanted to admit.
She pulled her hand back. “What now?”
“I’ll text Scott the results.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text. “I’d like to talk to Josh about the guy who grabbed you that morning. I want to find my dad’s killer.”
“And you’ve decided it’s not your mom or sister?”
“Yes. They wanted his money, but I can’t quite believe they’d do something that drastic. Maybe I’m being naive.”
“You know them better than anyone.” She followed him out of the lab and into the parking lot. The setting sun was putting on a show out over the ocean, and her stomach rumbled to remind her it was dinnertime.
“I heard that. My stomach is serenading me too. We could stop at Cafe Alfresco. I love their chicken curry with mango chutney. I’ll buy.”
She wished she could consider this a date. She got into the truck. “That’s my favorite too. If I eat all my dinner, can I have the carrot cake? Though the thing is huge. Maybe I should just eat the carrot cake and skip the dinner.”
“I’ll split it with you after dinner.”
The thought of sharing a plate with him seemed surreal and way too intimate if she was going to work on guarding her heart, but she couldn’t say no. She sat in silence as he drove them to the restaurant. They were quickly seated outside at a table with lots of privacy near the iron railing. The restaurant, along the Pinellas Trail in downtown Dunedin, was a favorite in the Tampa Bay area. Aromas of
Italian, Asian, and seafood dishes permeated the air in a tantalizing bouquet.
Ridge’s dark eyes were pensive as his gaze wandered. “What would you do about my mom and sister if you were me?”
Treacherous waters ahead. The wrong advice could backfire. The server brought water to the table and gave her a reprieve while they gave their orders. She laced her fingers together when he looked back at her expectantly.
“There’s really no place for your sister in the pharmaceutical business, is there? What about his other businesses?”
He barked out a derisive laugh. “She wouldn’t be caught dead working in one of Dad’s businesses. She likes telling her patients what to do.”
“She probably makes good money. Do you know why she’s so wrapped up in having more?”
His troubled gaze locked with hers for a long moment. “You’re right. I should find out. Maybe there’s some valid reason she needs the money. If that’s the case, I should help her, shouldn’t I?”
Harper didn’t want to say her true feelings, so she just nodded.
Ridge took a sip of his water. “You think I should give her the money even if she doesn’t need it, don’t you?”
“Someone with that much anger and rage is usually covering over something painful. The divorce may have taken a bigger toll on her than you know. She doesn’t seem to be the type to tell you what she’s feeling.”
“And she’s been so influenced by Mom. Mom doesn’t deserve a cent though. She took half of everything when she left Dad. If she’s blown her half while Dad built his up, that’s her own fault.”
“I would agree with that. I know God expects us to be generous and forgive. Maybe you and your sister need to have a long talk.”
She felt the blood drain from her face when she spotted a figure over Ridge’s shoulder. “Um, here comes Willow now. She’s spotted you and she looks angry.”
27
Strands of Truth Page 16
